


Emrys the Great and Awkward

by stopdot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Canon Divergent, Canon Era, Episode: s02e03 The Nightmare Begins (Merlin), Flirting, Friends to Lovers, I never write anything canon compliant, Jealous Arthur, M/M, Magic Reveal, Mergana friendship, Mutual Pining, No One Dies And Nothing Is Sucky AU, Uther is mentioned, arthur is a big dumb gay and knows it, based off of, because it's just a very flirty merlin in a cloak, both for merlin and morgana, but mostly arthur, does emrys count as another character??, everyone seems to think arthur and merlin are meeting up in secret, except for uther, gaius is an icon as usual, he's still pretty sucky, idk the cast of characters is pretty small in this one, it's probably, knowing those two, maybe gwen shows up??, mostly arthur is pining, there's no feelings realization in this, wanted to try my hand at a, which they kind of are, you should know this by now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopdot/pseuds/stopdot
Summary: Merlin for once doesn't listen to the dragon or Gaius and tells Morgana about his powers. This leads to nightly magic lessons in Morgana's chambers that have Arthur a tad jealous. Morgana soon decides to tell Arthur about her magic, and he's a bit scared, of her and for her, but he's working on it. He decides to be a good brother and learn more about magic in order to make Morgana feel accepted and understood. His terrible stumblings through the world of magic soon lead him to rumors of a man called Emrys. What happens when they finally meet each other and Emrys turns out to be unexpectedly flirty?
Relationships: Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 181





	1. In which we set stuff on fire

Morgana sat on her bed, brushing her hair in long, precise strokes. 

She’d been doing it a lot more, lately. The brushing. She found that the even rhythm of the bristles shifting through her hair was enough to ward her mind against most worries. 

But the problem was, Morgana seemed to have a lot more worries than usual, and they were only increasing with time. 

Every night in her dreams, she’d receive terrifying visions; Beady eyed crows swooped low over her head, and the last bubbles of breath in drowning men’s lungs sat deep in her throat. 

The scariest part was in her waking hours, when she’d occasionally set eyes on someone and know that she’d seen them before. 

Morgana brushed faster and faster, trying to set her eyes on some far away, more peaceful point. 

The handle fell away from her fingers and her hairbrush clattered to the floor. 

_ Knock, knock _ . 

Morgana, in a carefully steady voice called out, “Come in!”

A black, scruffy head poked out from the doorframe. 

“M’lady? Are you okay? I heard something drop,” Merlin asked, slipping into the room. 

She gulped and lifted herself from the bed. “No, no. I’m perfectly fine. My brush just fell.”

Merlin nodded and closed the door with a soft click of the latch. 

Morgana strode over to him and took him by the hands. They stood staring at each other for a couple seconds, Merlin awkward and confused and Morgana gravely serious. 

“Um,” she began, gripping a smidge tighter on his hands. “Thank you. For coming here. For telling me I’m not… crazy.”

Merlin’s eyes softened with understanding. “Oh. Well um- You’re welcome?”

Morgana smiled gratefully and let go of him.

He rocked a little back and forth as he searched for something to say next. Something about Morgana’s room made him feel like he shouldn’t logically belong in it. Like his place in it was some sort of universal error. 

“So… what was it you wanted to learn, exactly?” he asked. “Do you want to practice some simple spells? Or do some research into the whole ‘seer’ thing?”

Morgana had wandered over to place her hairbrush back on her vanity, but her eyes snapped back to Merlin’s at the question. “Fire spells. Do you know any fire spells?”

He glanced over to the windowsill, where the charred aftermath of the fire still lay in the wood. “Of course,” he acquiesced. 

Merlin looked about the room, seemingly waiting for something that he wasn’t sure how to obtain. “Um.”

“Oh!” Morgana startled, realizing what it was. “I’m sorry, I put all the candles in the nightstand drawer. I was afraid if I could see them, I might… you know….  _ ignite them _ .”

Merlin’s eyes flashed and the candles flew out of the drawer to come float in front of his face. “That’s quite alright, milady. I remember being scared too when I couldn’t control my magic,” he assured as he flicked through the line of floating candles, inspecting them. 

When Morgana didn’t respond, he looked up to find her clutching the lip of the vanity in shock. 

“Oh, shit.” 

The candles all clattered to the ground in a haphazard heap, leaving Merlin to drop to the floor to pick them up. His eyes lost their golden glow as his concentration broke.

“Uh, sorry…” he grimaced. “I just never usually get to use my magic in front of people, so I…. I’ll try not to use it so much if it still makes you nervous.”

Morgana bent down to help Merlin gather the remaining candles and place them on the table. “No, please. I couldn’t ask you to do that, Merlin. My magic feels like… a part of me. I couldn’t ask you to-” She cut herself off.

Morgana slowly lifted her gaze to Merlin’s, willing him to understand what she was saying.

“...Are you sure you’re not scared?” he asked.

“Yes.”

After a moment, her eyes slid shyly to the floor. “Well, no. I probably am the tiniest bit…..  _ startled _ . But I’m mostly just impressed, I assure you.”

Merlin nodded along as he rose up to stand, clearly trying his best to believe her. “Okay, okay. Okay,” he kept repeating. 

“...So how do you do a fire spell?” Morgana asked as she rose along with him. 

“Well most spells are channeled through a word or phrase in the Old Language,” he explained, grabbing a single candle from the table. “It’s very important that you say the word with the right type of conviction. Don’t worry if you don’t get it on the first go. It takes a couple-”

The candle wick abruptly exploded into a tongue of bright, pulsing light.

Morgana let out a little shriek as the flame grew before Merlin put it out with a flash of his eyes. 

“Um. Yes, so it appears your problem is  _ not _ getting the spell started,” he said, carefully flicking the singed wick as a means of examination. “I suppose I’ve always treated magic as well to draw from, but…”

Morgana sank down over the table, hiding her face in her hands. “...But what?”

“But you’re more like a river,” he finished. “Your magic is always rushing somewhere.”

“...So I have to stop it from rushing.”

Merlin shook his head. “Not exactly. You have to get it to rush where you want to. You need… an aqueduct.”

Morgana raised her head from its defeated position against the edge of the table. “And the phrase is the aqueduct. That’s what you mean, right?”

Merlin snapped his fingers in agreement. “Precisely. If you think of the words that way, maybe we won’t get….” he nodded to the scorched windowsill. “ _ That _ again.”

She eyed him apprehensively, carefully taking the candle from his hands as if it were an angry snake. “...So what are the words?” 

“Well there a lot of variants,” Merlin began excitedly. “ _ Leohtbora, bryne, forbærnan _ ,  _ forbærnan firgenholt _ , ect. They all do quite well to start a fire, but the one probably most suited to our needs is  _ leohtbora _ . It’s typically used for starting small fires as a means of lightsource.”

Some of Morgana’s hesitance melted away at the sight of the enthusiasm stretching across Merlin’s face. She set her shoulders wide and confident as she prepared herself to light the candle. 

“ _ Leohtbora. _ ”

The candle sparked frighteningly and Merlin once more quickly put it out. “...Do you feel up to trying it again?” he asked, catching Morgana’s devastated expression. 

She shook herself out of it and pressed her lips together into a line of determination. “Yes.”

She tried to light the wick in a controlled manner a number of times more, but each time, Merlin ended up having to put it out. 

After the ninth failure, she threw the candle to the ground and stomped on it mercilessly with her heel. “Why. Can’t. I. DO THIS?!” she shrieked. 

Merlin approached carefully to lead her away from the squashed mound of wax by the shoulders. “Okay, okay. I know this is obviously stressful for you, and it feels really stupid, but let me just tell you this;” he said, waiting for her eyes to find his in the waning light of the room. “You’re getting better! Already! Those last couple of tries were definitely becoming more controlled. You just really need to  _ clench down _ on the flow of your river. You have to build a stronger aqueduct.”

Morgana, panting, but no longer looking like the human incarnation of a banshee, asked, “But how-? How do I do that?”

“Drama,” Merlin said. “I promise you, my spells work a thousand times better when I give them the proper dramatic weight. That doesn’t even mean it has to be loud! Just, you know….. provoking.”

Morgana looked down at the candle she’d decimated just a minute ago. “....Well I  _ know _ I can do that.”

Merlin handed her another candle and stepped back with an encouraging thumbs-up. 

“ _ Leohtbora _ .”

This time, the flame surged bright and over-powerful for a couple seconds before dancing steadily on the wick. 

Morgana whooped and giggled, her eyes still glowing gold. “I did it! I actually did it, Merlin!” 

She put the candle out and grabbed Merlin by the hands, spinning the both of them around the room in gleeful circles. Their feet tapped in time to a merry jig only they could hear as they grinned at each other. 

“Thank you, thank you,  _ thank you! _ ” she cried, yanking him into a hug. 

Merlin tripped into her arms, nearly bowling the both of them over before he righted himself. “I’ve done hardly anything yet!” he laughed. 

“But still! You’ve done _ something!  _ All these years, no one’s ever- No one’s ever done  _ anything _ .”

He gently patted her hair and pulled back enough to see her face. “Well you’re always welcome, m’lady. I’m sorry it’s been such a long time coming,” he said.

“Morgana,” she corrected.

Merlin twisted up his face in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Merlin, we’re friends. You can call me Morgana,” she smiled. 

Slowly, he began to smile back. “Oh. Well then pardon me,  _ Morgana _ .”

They spent a long while talking after that, mostly about having magic and Morgana’s dreams. By the time they were done, the last light of the evening sun had dipped behind the horizon and their legs were sore from sitting on the floor for so long. 

Finally they had come to a lull in their conversation in which Morgana simply sat and stared pensively, just past Merlin’s head. “Do you think….?” she began.

“Do you think I should tell Arthur about my magic…?”

Merlin sucked in a sharp and terrified breath. 

“...Do you want to?” he asked after a beat.

“Yes,” she said, with surprising conviction. “...I mean,  _ eventually _ . It’s just- I know we don’t act like it, but- We’ve always been close. ….It just feels better when you don’t have to keep a fundamental part of yourself from your loved ones.”

Merlin gulped. She was right. Up until now, he’d only had Gaius to talk to about his magic, and he’d felt so much happier ever since he told Morgana. “How do you think he’d react?”

“Well we’re like family, so I’d hope-” She paused a second before coming back into herself. “I’d hope he would- He’d probably still love me…. even if he didn’t… accept what I was.”

“...Would  _ you _ ever tell him?” she asked after a moment. 

Merlin looked up to the ceiling ever so slowly, partially thinking and partially stalling. 

“Maybe….” he offered hesitantly. “But no, probably not. If I told him, there’s a very large chance he’d have me executed.”

Morgana leapt towards Merlin in alarm. “No, he’d never do that! He needs you —and loves you— far too much for that,” she assured him, grasping his face in her hands to make sure he was looking at her.

Merlin pried her hands off the sides of his head, chin dipping down to his chest. “He doesn’t love me, Morgana.”

“He does! I’m telling you, you haven’t seen him  _ staring wistfully  _ at you whenever he thinks you won’t notice,” she teased.

His head snapped back up to look on her with wide eyes. “ _ Stop _ , please. We’re getting off topic. Besides, it’s not like I- Like I care if he loves me or not,” he lied, face already flushing bright against the dim candlelight.

“Mmhmm…” Morgana grinned, a sign that she was going to leave well enough alone… for now.

After a moment, when Merlin’s face had resumed it’s usual color he said, “I think you should do it.”

She perked up, slipping out of her evil smirk into a genuine and anxious smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think he’d- He wouldn’t betray you, I’m sure,” he said. “And he might even come to accept you. He certainly cares about you enough to try.”

She paused. 

Then nodded.

“Alright.”

\----------------------------------

The Lady Morgana was a great many things; Men who hadn’t met her called her beautiful. Men who had met her called her crazy. Women fawned over her hair and clothes, praised her sharp mind for justice, and everyone around her acknowledged her incredible manipulative talents and her ability to endure the cruel ministrations of her king. 

But among all those many qualities, she was nothing if not succinct. 

That is why precisely the next day at lunch time, she sat with Arthur in his chambers, preparing to break the magical news to him. 

“So…” Arthur began, cutting through the massive silence that seemed to have settled over their lunch. “You said you wanted to tell me something, but so far, we haven’t done any talking.”

Morgana cleared her throat and ate a couple more spoonfuls of rabbit stew before pushing the bowl away. “Yes. Those are both accurate observations, Arthur.”

Arthur glared in distaste and confusion. “You do know a principle part of telling people things is to be forthcoming, right?”

She gave it back twice as good as she got. “If you could pull your head out of your own ass for just a moment, you’d see I’m  _ nervous _ .”

Arthur’s glare softened into a frown as he sunk down in his seat guiltily. “Right, sorry. Take your time,” he permitted, as if Morgana really needed permission to do anything. 

She would let him have it, though.

“I’m nervous because I- Because I don’t know how you’ll react,” she began. “Your actual stance on the matter is extremely elusive.”

“My stance on wh-?”

“How do you feel about magic, Arthur?” she asked, cutting him off. 

At the word ‘magic,’ he froze in his seat, eyeing her warily. He seemed to be seriously considering her question, though, and that was a start. 

“...Morgana,” he said after a long while. “Are you harboring another fugitive sorcerer? Because you have nothing to be afraid of if you need my help again.”

Morgana folded her legs daintily and issued a deep sigh. “No, you’ll find no owl-eyed little druid boys hiding in the antechamber this time, Arthur.”

“Then what?!” he cried, leaning over the table towards her. “Have you contacted a sorcerer? Did you do business with one? Honestly, Morgana. If you bargained off your first-born to a witch, I  _ will _ try and help you out of it, promise.”

“Nice to see there’s still  _ some _ knightly chivalry in you,” she laughed, not without underlying tension.

He only narrowed his eyes at her, ignoring the jab in favour of trying to unlock her secrets with a carefully raised eyebrow. 

She shook her head ruefully. “No druid child needs rescuing. And my firstborn isn’t in danger. I’m a- I’m-”

Arthur tipped forward with anticipation. 

“I have magic.”

He nearly fell flat on his face. 

“What?!” he shouted, chair lurching backwards into its proper position. 

“I’m magic. I have magic, Arthur. I’m a sorceress,” she repeated, expression closing off with hurt.

“That’s ridiculous, Morgana! I know you’ve been having strange dreams and the like, but that _ doesn’t _ make you a sorceress,” he pleaded, getting up to stand in front of her.

She stood up along with him, small, and cold, and bitter. “You’re not listening! No one has ever listened to me when I tried to tell them it was magic, except-”

She stopped short, thinking about how vehemently Merlin refused to tell Arthur about his powers. 

“Except no one,” she finished. 

“I’m sorry, Morgana, but what evidence do you have that it is magic?” he asked, trying to sound gentle and yet authoritative. 

“Bring me a candle.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “Excuse me, what?”

“Bring me. A  _ candle _ ,” Morgana commanded, pressing into him with her sharp stare. 

He retrieved the candle melting in the holder on the nightstand. He didn’t speak, only listened to the gentle clink of it hitting the table. 

Morgana took a deep breath, hoping that last night’s meager practice with Merlin was enough to successfully get the candle lit. 

“ _ Leohtbora _ ,” she whispered, cementing herself in the weight of the words and the flow of her magic between them.

Arthur startled as the candle sparked suddenly to life before waning into a properly sized flame. His hand instinctively reached for the phantom of a sword that usually lay sheathed at his hip. 

This detail did not escape Morgana’s notice. 

She turned to him, eyes fading back into their usual hazel-green. “I know it’s frightening, Arthur. It was frightening for me too.”

“How long have-? How long have you practiced magic?” he asked, shaking a bit. 

“I don’t  _ practice magic _ ,” she clarified. “I  _ am _ magic. I didn’t choose this any more than you chose to be non-magical.”

“...You didn’t choose to?”

Morgana strung her fingers through her hair. “No,” she said. “Why would I? Why would anyone choose to be persecuted and hated?”

Arthur dropped back down into his chair, breathing through his nose like the air was too thin. “...Why are you telling me this? You must be aware I could tell father…”

“You won’t,” she responded, with such great conviction that Arthur became aware that he wouldn’t. “I know you’re aware I’m not evil. Or at least you’ll give me the chance to prove to you I’m not.”

A sudden, great fear seized Arthur’s heart; Not of Morgana, but for her.

“We have to get you out of Camelot.”

Morgana stood, bewildered as she watched Arthur retrieve his coat from the floor where Merlin had thrown it earlier. “What? I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You’re a witch in the heart of the most dangerous place for witches to be, Morgana. Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t stay here!”

“I can and I will! As long as Uther doesn’t find out-”

“He  _ will _ find out!” Arthur corrected, spinning around to face her. “It was you, wasn’t it? Who blasted the glass off her own window and started the fire. You can hardly control your powers! What if you accidentally reveal yourself?!”

“Okay, I know that I don’t have the  _ best _ handle on my magic,” she said, plucking Arthur’s sword out from under his pillow before he could get to it. “But I’m working on it. Have a little faith in me, for god’s sakes!”

Arthur huffed and leaped out to grab his sword, but she lifted it away. “Morgana, I have every confidence in your abilities,” he hissed. “But there is no way you could learn fast enough to avoid another incident. Not by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself,” she replied, staking the sword into the floor-boards like a regal cane. 

“Who-?”

“They don’t wish to be revealed,” she said, cutting him off. “But I can assure you they’re a good person and a capable magic user.”

Arthur fell back onto the bed, feeling floppy and dumbstruck. He knew there were other magic users in Camelot; certainly enough of them had tried to enact revenge on him and his father. But one close enough to the royal family to teach Morgana?

If he were magical, he wouldn’t touch his family with a fifty-foot pole. 

He felt Morgana settle on the bed beside him. 

“I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. You have to trust that,” she said. 

And he did trust it. At least, he would try. 

But no one ever said anything about making sure everything  _ stayed _ okay. That part was up to Morgana’s mysterious teacher.

Morgana’s mysterious teacher and him. 

\-----------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, peeps! This was the second idea for a fic I had, and honestly, I was more excited about this one than the fake marriage one (though i did enjoy that one too). Hopefully that translated into my writing! I made a gif of Merlin and Morgana, so if you'd like to see that, come visit my tumblr @nodudeshutup. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	2. arthur has had enough of books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Sorry I haven't updated this in like..... three months. Oops. Had to move houses in the Year of Our Lord 2020, so forgive for being a little stressed and busy. Hope you enjoy! This chapter features a lot of that good pining arthur content!

The first place he looked was arguably not the best place, but what he supposed to do? It’s not like he’d met many sorcerers who were  _ up for a chat _ . 

So first thing the next morning, Arthur stepped into the vacant halls of the library to see if any manuscripts on magic or magic-users were left from before the Great Purge. 

He had chosen to come in at a time when Geoffrey was still fast asleep. It’s not that he didn’t want to see the royal librarian. The man was a bit dull, but he was fine enough company.

No, he just didn’t want anyone to know we was researching magic, lest that kind of information be reported back to Uther. He didn’t want people knowing about it so much that he hadn’t even bothered to wake Merlin up to help him wade through the vast stores of the library. 

A couple hours later was met with little to no progress. 

He’d found a book on herbal remedies that supposedly worked ‘like magic,’ a bestiary on mythical creatures that looked like it been pored over many times (by Gaius, if the handwriting in the margins was to judge), and a guide on how to do simple sleight of hand tricks nowhere near actual magic. 

Arthur was just about to give up on the castle library when he heard the creak of an opening door from behind the stacks. 

By the time Geoffrey poked his wrinkled face around the shelves to catch whoever was in his library, Arthur had gotten around to putting the bestiary and the guide back where they were, but was in the process of reshelving the herbal remedies. 

_ Okay, okay. Don’t freak out. Herbal remedies is the least suspicious book to be caught with.  _

He drew the compendium close to his chest, deciding to own up to reading through it. 

“Geoffrey! Hello! I was just- I was just, uh-”

“Perusing the shelves?” Geoffrey suggested, taking pity on Arthur’s endless stuttering. He snatched the book out of the young prince’s hands. “ _ Fauna’s Guide to Medical Flora _ …. This is a pharmaceutical manual.”

“Yeeeeesssss……” Arthur drawled, searching for some sort of explanation. “I’m just  _ really _ interested in the subject. I find…..  _ feverfew _ fascinating,” he said, remembering a plant he’d seen in one of the jars in Gaius’ office. 

The old man scoffed. “More like you find that young physician’s apprentice fascinating…” he grumbled. 

Arthur realized with alarm that he was talking about Merlin. “I am  _ not _ -! I’ll have you know-!” he sputtered. 

He couldn’t quite find anything to say in response to that, though, because it was painfully, resoundingly true. 

Merlin was brash, and brave, and gave just as much fight back as Arthur gave him. He was incredibly rude, had no regard for station, and often cleaned by shoving it all under the bed and ignoring it.

And yet…

Arthur was irrevocably in love with the way his nose dipped into soft, pink lips, the way his eyes flashed with excitement whenever he was about to do something stupid, the way his hands found Arthur’s shoulders and hair after a particularly stressful day. 

Arthur knew he was in too deep from the moment Merlin had lifted his lips to that chalice. When he knew he’d do anything to get him back. 

Geoffrey waved him off. “Honestly, you needn’t be embarrassed. If you wanted to find something to impress him, you could have just asked for my help.”

Oh god. Oh no, oh god.

The old man shelved the pharmaceutical manual and marched to another section of the library marked ‘prose and balladry.’ 

No, no, no. There was no way Arthur was approaching Merlin with some sappy love song. The man wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. 

By the time Geoffrey was done with the poor prince, Arthur was leaving the library weighed down by no less than four thick tomes of romantic verse, and one incredibly suggestive manual on ‘wooing your lover’ that Arthur could have gone his whole life without having to lay eyes upon. 

He did try to sneakily put it back on the shelves several times, but each time, Geoffrey noticed and handed it back to him. He seemed to be under the impression that Arthur was just too bashful to admit he wanted the book, and kept assuring him it was perfectly normal for young men of his age to want to express certain ‘feelings of desire.’

Another thing Arthur wished never to hear coming out of anyone’s mouth, especially Geoffrey’s.

He left in a rush for his chambers, dearly hoping no one would stop to investigate the titles he was clutching in his arms. 

\-----------------------

After dumping the load of books in the antechamber that Merlin never used, and covering it with a towel, Arthur suddenly remembered Gaius used to practice magic and would be an infinitely better resource than the library. 

He supposed he should go now if he wanted to catch Gaius alone; It was now about the time of morning that Merlin was out in the kitchens, getting his breakfast.

So he hurried down to the physician’s quarters, trying to tamp down his blush at the incidents of earlier this morning. 

Little did he know, the blood would come rushing back to his face in full force soon, as he entered Gaius’ room and his eyes immediately landed upon his manservant.

Merlin was in the process of putting on his tattered jacket and preparing to go out the door, it seemed. He blinked confusedly at Arthur for a couple seconds before moving out of the way to let him past. 

“Arthur? I didn’t expect to see you up and dressed so early,” he teased, closing the door once the prince was inside.

“I knew how to wake up long before  _ you _ , Merlin. Don’t act so surprised,” he retorted, trying to pretend the hand Merlin brushed along his back wasn’t distracting him. 

“Mmhm.”

Gaius looked up from where he was squinting at his breakfast. “Sire! What brings you here at this hour?”

Arthur waded through the medical equipment to stand next to him. “It’s an urgent matter,” he whispered anxiously into the old man’s ear. 

Gaius glanced over at Merlin, who in turn was examining them curiously. “What kind of an urgent matter?” he whispered back. 

“I’m aware you used to practice magic. I need to ask about that.”

Gaius’ eyebrows shot up with apprehension, and at seeing his mentor’s expression, Merlin took a few careful steps closer. 

Arthur held up a hand. “No, no. No one’s coming after you for it. I only ask because I- I want to help Morgana. She has magic and it’s been frightening her.”

The old man’s mouth formed a small ‘oh.’ “Don’t worry, sire,” he said after a moment. “You don’t have to be so cautious about Merlin being here. He grew up in Essetir, so he shouldn’t have any anti-magic biases.”

Arthur backed up from Gaius’ ear, clearing his throat. “Right, right. Of course.”

Merlin, still partially turned to the door, glanced back and forth between them. “So… does this mean I should bring your breakfast back here?”

Arthur grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to the table. “Breakfast can wait. There are far more important matters to attend to.”

“Wow, never heard you say that before!” Merlin remarked, barely suppressing a smile. 

The prince grumbled something under his breath and pushed at Merlin’s grinning face. 

“So what is this ‘important matter’?” Merlin asked, batting Arthur’s hands away. 

Arthur glanced at Gaius, who gestured encouragingly. 

“It’s um-” 

He paused. 

“...How do you feel about magic, Merlin?” he asked, echoing Morgana’s earlier words. 

Merlin stiffened, mouth parting to form words that weren’t there. 

“No, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that,” Arthur backtracked. “I just assumed- Since you’re from out of Camelot, I assumed you would- But obviously, your feelings on the matter are less positive than one would expect.”

Merlin screwed his eyes shut tight and shook his head. “No. No Arthur, I’m- Magic is perfectly fine with me, it’s just- Well you can see that it’s a bit of loaded question in a place where sorcery is openly condemned…”

Arthur felt Gaius put a hand on his shoulder. “Best not go around asking everyone that question. For the Lady Morgana’s sake.”

Merlin’s eyebrows twitched up with interest. “‘Gana’s told you?”

The prince’s heart twinged curiously at the nickname. 

Merlin had become closer to Morgana in the past week, dropping by her chambers, bringing her flowers. Arthur just wanted to rip her off of him every time her fingertips found his shoulders, or when she reached out to squeeze his hands in greeting. 

But  _ no _ , he knew that wasn’t fair. Merlin was allowed to have friends, and there was only so much passing it off as protecting Morgana that he could do before his manservant sniffed out the jealousy. 

Arthur blinked back his thoughts and turned to Merlin with a stretched-out smile. “Yes,  _ Morgana _ came out to me yesterday. I wasn’t… aware she’d told you already.”

Merlin smiled sheepishly. “She needed someone to tell her she wasn’t… just crazy for thinking it was magic. I’m glad she knew she could trust me.”

Arthur sobered a bit at that. How terrifying must it be to discover you’re something you’re supposed to hate. How degrading must it be to have that grief ignored and dismissed by everyone closest to you.

And Arthur had been just as guilty of that same dismissal as the rest of them.

Arthur clasped Merlin’s hands in his gratefully. Merlin was kind, and he was patient.  _ Of course _ he was the only one to get it right. 

“You’ve taken good care of her,” he said quietly, with Gaius nodding a slow, old agreement behind him. 

Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly, cheeks pinking. “Um, yes. Thanks. I would have done it for any of my friends.”

The prince remained grasping his hands, smiling gently and besottedly down at him for a moment. 

Gaius looked back and forth between the two of them and sighed, effectively startling them apart from their little heart-to-heart. 

“Right, sire. What was it you wanted to discuss?” he prompted.

Arthur moved his hands behind his back, playing at regal composure. “Lady Morgana has been having trouble with her… erm… powers, and I’ve put it upon myself to help in any way I can.”

He paused. Then grimaced.

“...The trouble is… I’ve never made an attempt quite like this before. To not only help, but…  _ understand _ .”

Merlin crossed his arms and slowly turned to Gaius. The corners of his mouth were raring to turn upwards, and the old man was suppressing a smile just the same. 

“Arthur…” he said. “Are you asking for our help…?”

The prince glared at him. “I’m not asking for  _ your _ help, Merlin. I want some insight from Gaius on what it’s like to be a magic user. So unless you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve  _ yourself _ ….”

“How very dare you?” Merlin joked nervously. “I could be the most powerful sorcerer in existence, for all you know!”

Gaius nicked him in the elbow in warning.

“Right,” Arthur replied sharply. “But you’re  _ not _ . So let’s crack on then, shall we?”

Merlin paused, wary, and then grumbled his assent. 

They followed Gaius to the very back of the infirmary, tense and anxious amongst each other for very different reasons. Gaius’ old and knotted hands drifted over the titles on his bookshelf, ( _ Arboretums for Amateurs, 31 Diagnoses for Dry Cough,  _ and the  _ Medieval Medic’s Almanac _ among them) before settling on an unmarked tome with several pages loose from the binding. 

Arthur pushed over the old man’s shoulder, eager to get some answers  _ and _ to put some distance between him and Merlin, who was anxiously biting his lip in that way that made Arthur a little insane. 

The physician raised that monumentally displeased eyebrow of his at the prince to get him to move back. 

Arthur sheepishly complied. 

“So you wanted to learn about magic to help your sister, sire?” Gaius asked. 

Arthur, feeling scolded, replied, “Yes, I- She’s a sorceress in the heart of Camelot, and I wanted to… look out for her.” He coughed awkwardly. “I mean, how do you not get caught? How do you cope with… you know,  _ being so alone _ ?”

Gaius and Merlin glanced at each other meaningfully, before turning back to Arthur.

“Well…” the old man began. “In my case, your father knows that I used to practice magic. He pardoned it so long as I never utter a spell again. I’d imagine, if I had to hide, that I would use my powers sparingly, and  _ only in the event of an emergency _ .” This last bit, he oh-so-carefully leveraged at Merlin, who was looking irritably into the distance. “In regards to the loneliness, there’s no real way to cope with it without divulging your powers to at least one trusted person.”

Arthur nodded, now suddenly feeling the weight of Morgana’s trust upon him. “That makes sense. The only true cure to loneliness is to not be alone.”

Gaius silently handed the tome he was holding over to the prince. 

Arthur cracked it open, careful not to let any of the loose pages fall out. Clearly this book had been pored over for many years; The edges of the paper were soft, and the binding crackled. 

The book seemed to be some kind of encyclopedia, but of what, he couldn’t possibly imagine. Faded illustrations of thoroughly robed characters, and scaly beasts with long necks roamed amongst the words. The letters were strange too, swimming with meaning Arthur couldn’t quite pin down. 

He looked to Gaius for an explanation.

“It’s a compendium of ancient, magical legend,” the physician replied. 

“Wh- What language is this?” he asked.

“The language of the Old Religion. The language of magic.”

Arthur leaned over the words, bringing the book close to his face as if he could will them to make sense. “...What does this even say?” 

Merlin, who had since been quiet for a while now, scoffed. “It’s talking about the giants that inhabited Albion before us, obviously,” he said, pointing at a passage under the illustration of a large and beastly man. “Here it details the defeat of the last giant, the Giant King Gogmagog. Our human forefathers threw him off a cliff.”

Arthur snapped his head up quizzically to Merlin’s face. “You can  _ read _ this?”

The warlock slowly and carefully withdrew his finger from the page, realizing with poorly disguised horror what he’d just done.

“....Bits and pieces,” he winced. “Gaius taught me some key principles, so I have a basic level of fluency.”

It was all lies, of course, what he’d just said. 

He’d been speaking and understanding the language of the Old Religion for as long as he could remember. No one had taught him, and he’d never needed to take the time to learn it. It was always just….  _ there _ .

Arthur sniffed haughtily, trying to cover up the fact that he’d been caught off guard. “No, no. Yes, of course. I just…… didn’t know you could read.”

Recognizing the jab at his intelligence, Merlin eyes went low and slim with irritation, and his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed back a flippant retort. 

Not that Arthur was paying that close attention, or anything. No, certainly not. 

He coughed and turned to the old physician. “So Gaius, what’s your reason for showing me this book?”

“I showed it to you because it’s an important part of magical heritage; Our legends,” he said, the folds in his robes swishing as he gestured to the book. “It’s how I’ve felt less alone all these years. It helps a great deal to know what you’ve came from and who.”

Arthur flipped through it for a moment, partially to soak in the momentousness of the stories before him, and partially to ignore Merlin’s nervous energy hovering next to him. 

Small, spritely women, fur backed beasts, sprawling dragons; They drifted past his eyes as he looked from page to page. 

He stopped, finally, when a certain illustration caught his eye. 

It was of an imposing and ethereal figure, draped in flowing robes, and with eyes glowing out from its slender face. Although the picture was simple and rendered in sparse detail, it was captivating in a way Arthur couldn’t name. Almost like awe and….. fondness.

“Who is this?” he asked, trailing his fingers lightly over the illustration’s face in open reverence. 

Gaius gently lifted the book out of a dazed Arthur’s hands to see what he had found. As he realized what it was, both his dreadful and hairless eyebrows raised up in surprise. 

“This….” he began, glancing meaningfully at Merlin. “...Is the great wizard Emrys.”

The old man hurried over to his work desk to sit down and read. Arthur and Merlin followed after him, in confusion and worry respectively. 

“He seems… special. Is he special?” Arthur asked. 

Gaius, looking perturbed, nodded. “He’s the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”

The prince furrowed his brow at that. “Was he…. very dangerous?”

“He  _ is _ ,” the physician corrected. “Or at least, he will be.”

Now  _ that _ had Arthur even more confused. 

Gaius, catching his expression, elaborated. “He’s a creature of prophecy. He is to arrive one day to restore magic to the whole of Albion, by way of protecting the Once and Future King.”

“And does this Emrys seek to harm?”

“Only to those who threaten the safety of his beloved King.”

Arthur vaguely felt Merlin radiate distress beside him. 

He wanted more than anything to soothe him and caress his face with the same gentleness he had the portrait of Emrys. 

Instead, he simply took back the tome from Gaius and pondered the face of the Great Sorcerer for a minute.

“Well, if Emrys does exist yet, I’d much like to meet him someday. Thank you Gaius, for your help,” he said, and slammed the book closed for good. 


End file.
